


Scrutiny

by deebeebird



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Backstory, Blackwatch Era, Distrust, Gen, everyone's a little bitter, fairly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deebeebird/pseuds/deebeebird
Summary: In which the four agents who would become Blackwatch's core prepare for their first mission together.





	Scrutiny

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Blackwatch Week, y'all! Here's my submission for Day 1's prompts--I focused on 'Plan A' and it slowly got angstier and angstier without me meaning to make it that way.

Gabriel had only just finished chewing Jesse out for arriving at the mission report late when Genji strolled into the conference room. Ignoring Jesse’s slight smirk, the commander returned to the head of the table, the screen behind him lighting up as he began.

“Well, we’re all here now, so let’s get right to it,” he said, gesturing at the information behind him. “Our Blackwatch base in Stockholm’s found a Talon-funded weapons trafficking operation near the border with Finland. They’ve got eyes out for resistance, so Lacroix wants a small team to go in and grab the ringleaders.” He flipped through his datapad, and four names and pictures popped up on the screen. “If we can get them alive, all the better—Mattsson in particular runs his mouth, so it shouldn’t be too hard to make them talk. Holm’s a bastard, though; chances are he won’t let us take him, so be ready for trouble.”

“What do we know about the operation itself?” Moira asked, studying her long fingernails. “Why are they stockpiling arms?”

“From what we can tell, the final destination is Russia,” Gabriel replied. “Stockholm base has uncovered talks with an omnic insurgent group not far from the capital. It’s a small group, so they’re likely not staging an all-out coup, but whatever they’ve got up their sleeves is bound to be trouble.”

“Mm.” In truth, Moira had her qualms. She preferred her missions a bit more unusual than disrupting trafficking operations—she would be far more interested in exploring the insurgents in Russia, where she was at least more likely to learn something. She supposed that cutting off a potential coup’s resources was the more expedient plan, and sometimes efficiency was a better choice, even if it came at the cost of knowledge. She was no longer so young and idealistic that she couldn’t see the benefits of preventing further bloodshed.

Looking around the room, she couldn’t help but feel that her company would make things more interesting than they needed to be. She knew McCree’s work by reputation; he had all the swaggering overconfidence she would expect of a man his age, but he at least also had the skill to back it up. Personally, she found Gabriel’s investment in the boy to be a little too involved, but the commander appeared to trust him well enough that she could expect him to do good work.

The Shimada boy, on the other hand…Moira knew less about him than she would like to admit. It had been less than a week since he had been cleared to go on missions, and Dr. Ziegler had been the one to run his psychological evaluations. She knew that he was angry—troublingly angry, even by Blackwatch’s loose standards. She eyed him curiously. He was watching the screen intently, as if memorizing every detail of the map. She could understand his rage, with everything he had been through. Perhaps he was being brought along for such a cut-and-dry mission simply to see if he could do it. Perhaps this was an experiment, in its own right.

She felt a bit better about it all, thinking of it that way.

* * *

 

When she focused back on Gabriel, he was gesturing at the map of the compound, explaining vantage points and back corridors.

“Shimada, if you go in this way, you’ll have a view of the entire lobby without anyone seeing you. If the resistance is light, dispatch whoever needs to be dispatched and then signal for McCree to enter in through the courtyard door. O’Deorain and I will—” The commander paused abruptly, his eyes narrowing. “Are you listening, Jesse?”

“Yeah, boss. Courtyard door. I hear ya,” Jesse replied, grinning just widely enough to earn a withering look. Once Gabriel returned to the screen, the gunslinger’s smile faded, and he tossed a cautious look around the room.

He didn’t like this. He was new enough to Blackwatch that most of his missions involved somebody he had never worked with, but as far as he could tell, Gabriel was the only one in the room he knew would have his back. For all her skill as a healer, Dr. O’Deorain was too… _scientific_ for him. She saw the whole world as an experiment, and he didn’t want to be caught in her crosshairs for whatever answer she was trying to discover. For that matter, Genji’s skill with a sword didn’t make him any happier about being part of the cyborg’s first mission. Jesse had seen his legs give out during training simply because he wasn’t used to them, and he had heard his bitterness shine through when he spoke about his condition. Dr. Ziegler and Winston had insisted that Genji was as ready for work as he’d ever be, but Jesse couldn’t help but wish that it was somebody else dealing with the possibility of this test run going south.

He returned his attention to the screen, only half-listening to Gabriel detail the plan. Disrupting a smuggling operation in the middle of nowhere…that was familiar. He resisted the urge to scoff, and wondered if that was the point. Maybe he was being brought along as a lesson, so he could understand what a pain in the ass the Deadlock operation had been. Like he needed a reminder. Like laying in the sand back in the desert, staring down the barrel of Gabriel’s shotgun, hadn’t been one of the scarier moments of his life.

 _You ain’t gotta kill me, sir._ He must have sounded so weak. Jesse looked away from the screen, resentment bubbling up hot in his chest. Here he was, driving himself up the wall when he didn’t even know why he had been assigned this mission. For all he knew, he had just been the right man for the job.

Still, he wondered if they’d meet some kid like him in Stockholm.

* * *

 

“So that’s the plan,” Gabriel finished, switching the screen behind him off. “Any questions?” He looked around the room, his eyes lingering on Genji. “Shimada? Feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, commander,” the cyborg assured him quietly.

“Dr. Ziegler says you’re good to go, but that I should keep an eye on you,” the commander in question continued. “But if you don’t think you’re up for it, I don’t mind—”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Genji repeated, his eyes flashing slightly. “I can do this.” He immediately regretted snapping, and looked back down. He could understand the concern—this time last year, he wasn’t even able to walk, and the last time he had sparred with McCree, his legs had given out. He was still broken, and they were taking a chance bringing him along. He knew that.

That was the thing—most of the time, he _knew_ his anger was unwarranted or misdirected. Being so angry so constantly was exhausting, He wanted to rest. He wanted the counseling to help. He wanted Overwatch to stop looking at him like he was a time bomb, one errant movement away from exploding. But every jolt of pain from his cybernetics, every restless night, every glance in a mirror sent his head spinning with how suddenly his life had been upturned.

 _I wasn’t what my clan wanted, and so my brother killed me._ It all came back to that. And he wasn’t certain anything could make that feel any different than it did. So he understood the concern. What he refused was pity. He needed this mission, so that he could prove as much to himself as to the rest that he could do it.

He was ready to feel alive again.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, his voice soft again. “Thank you for asking, commander.”

Gabriel nodded curtly at the cyborg, then looked around the room. He could feel the tension between them, three agents who had never worked together, all shifting eyes, trying to figure each other out. If he was Jack, he would address it, make them believe somehow that they could trust each other, ease their minds so they could focus.

But he wasn’t Jack, so instead he did what Gabe knew how to do.

“That’s that, then,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Dropship leaves in thirty. Don’t be _late_.” He paired his last comment with a wry look at Jesse and Genji—the latter rolled his eyes, the former smirked.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, boss,” the gunslinger replied easily. Gabe returned his attention to the room as a whole.

“Alright. Watch each other’s backs out there,” he advised. “This is supposed to be a simple mission, so let’s keep it simple and get it done so we can all come home. No problems.” He relaxed a little at the sound of his team’s affirmative humming, and allowed himself a slight smile. “Dismissed.”

 

 


End file.
